Naked Soul
by LostinOblivion
Summary: After months of misery, Emily finally walks away from a bad relationship and heads to D.C. to heal. But walking away is only the beginning of her fight. Prentiss/Morgan. Prentiss/OC (sort of). For Lizzabet.
1. Chapter 1

_This story is for Lizzabet, who created the cover for me for Fallen. This story has Blake in it, so it's set either last season or the one before. However, I don't remember much of season 8 and I didn't really watch season 9, so I'm pretty much ignoring anything that happened except Blake's presence. I do not own the characters or world and I certainly do not own the Emily Dickinson poem. And that isn't the full poem below. Thank you all for reading, and Lizzabet, I'm sorry it took me so long to start posting this story! It will be a long though, so hopefully that makes up for it.  
><em>

_Trigger warnings for domestic violence. _

* * *

><p>"<em>He fumbles at your spirit<br>As players at the keys  
>Before they drop full music on;<br>He stuns you by degrees,_

_Your breath has time to straighten,  
>Your brain to bubble cool,-<br>Deals one imperial thunderbolt  
>That scalps your naked soul.<em>

_-Emily Dickinson_

Emily didn't say a word on the drive to her apartment, and she was relieved that Clyde didn't try to initiate conversation. It was late afternoon as they drove, the sun shining down blindingly bright, an uncommon occurrence in London. The traffic was light, because it was a Thursday and most people were at work. _They_ should have been at work. Emily should have been in her office, trying to complete paperwork through the constant barrage of phone calls and knocks on her office door. But they weren't at work, and Emily probably wouldn't be back at work for a while. Clyde wanted her out of the country for at least a month. Emily wasn't nearly as convinced that running away would help, but for once, Clyde was the one pushing her to go. He was afraid.

She was afraid. But she was also angry and exhausted and damn near broken.

They arrived at her building, parking in lot that, had it been later in the day, would have been filled with her neighbor's cars. Instead a handful of vehicles from the Metropolitan Police Service sat in the lot, parked haphazardly and taking up multiple parking spaces. Clyde stayed close to her as they walked to the building, both nodding at her doorman before walking toward the elevator. Emily had yet to start calling it a lift or calling her apartment a flat. She figured it came from how much moving around she had done in her life. If she'd picked up the terminology used by every place she had lived, no one would ever understand what she was saying.

The police presence didn't bother her until they got to her apartment. It was at the end of the hallway on the seventh floor, and once upon a time, she had liked the location because the hallway window was right there and made the space look cheery. Over the last few months, the walk down the narrow hallway had felt less like coming home and more like walking to the gallows. Or like the hotel in _The Shining_. Now the door to her apartment was wide open and two officers stood guard outside. Emily's body tensed, not at the memories from the last several months, but at the invasion. That was her home, her private life, and now it was laid bare.

Like she had done for the hours she'd spent at the hospital, Emily shut herself down. Her shoulders lowered and her fisted hands loosened. It can't hurt if you can't feel it.

She and Clyde flashed their IDs and entered the apartment. A young man that worked in Emily's office saw them and quickly made his way over. From his pocket he pulled out a set of keys and handed them to Emily. "Both locks were changed, ma'am. The locksmith said that the new deadbolt should keep out anything short of a missile. Please let me know if there is anything else that I can do."

Owen Gracie was a nice guy. Very young, but polite and didn't give Emily any shit. She figured being younger, he wasn't as bothered about answering to a woman. She expected to see pity in his eyes, but instead she found anger and even more surprising, pain. Then she remembered something he had said to her once, and knew exactly why Clyde had picked him. He'd been in a car accident last year that resulted in two fractured ribs, but had been back at work quickly. When Emily told him he could have more time, he'd shrugged and said he'd be fine, he'd had far worse as a kid.

She tried to smile, but doubted that she succeeded. "I'm fine, thank you, Owen."

"Why don't you pack your bags, Darling?" Clyde said.

Emily nodded. Ordinarily, she might have glared at him for using terms of endearment in front of their subordinates, but at the moment she didn't particularly care. And young though he was, Owen had worked under Clyde for years. The kid had to be used to it.

She had avoided looking at the rest of her apartment, which still had crime scene officers gathering evidence. She resisted the urge to order everyone out of her apartment. The curtain on her personal life had already been yanked up, there was no going back now. There was nothing left to hide. Instead she tapped an officer on the shoulder. "Can I get in the bedroom and pack my stuff?"

"Sure. We won't be too much longer in here."

"Thanks." Part of her did not want to go into her bedroom. She'd been trapped in that bedroom from Friday until earlier this morning. And then he'd only released her, because she had to work. Emily had prepared for work, but instead of going, she'd driven down the street and called Clyde.

Emily averted her eyes from the corner by the closet. Even in her peripheral vision, she could see that the officers had not removed it yet. She walked to the bed instead and reached a hand underneath it. Her go-bag was already packed, as it always was, and her fingers found the rough material easily. She pulled it free and tossed it on the bed, before sticking her hand back underneath it. It took her a minute, but she managed to find her suitcase that she hardly every used. She'd purchased it to use for vacations, and well, Emily didn't often go on vacation. That she tossed on top of the bed as well, and began to throw clothes, shoes, jewelry and other items into it. She'd almost finished filling it, and took one step toward the door to get he last few items she needed, when Clyde appeared with a small stack of books in his hands. He handed them over and Emily studied them, before looking up at him. "Should I even ask how you knew which ones to grab?"

Clyde smiled. "Your bookshelf is not that challenging to profile."

She actually smiled and rolled her eyes. Clyde's eyes drifted then and his gaze went dark. Emily followed it to the metal dog crate that was parked by the closet. A heavy chain collar sat on top of it. She tugged his arm, pulling his focus away. "Come on. I'm done here."

"Don't forget to throw the bastard's things in a box."

Emily reluctantly completed that task, storing away the things that four months ago brought a smile to her face. Seeing Reece's things around her apartment had made her feel warm and tingly four months ago; but now they just made her feel sick. When it was all over and the officers removed the last of the evidence from her apartment, Emily shut the door and turned her key in both locks. She let Clyde lead her down the stairs and back to his vehicle, and she tried to feel nothing.

Two days later, she was almost successful. She'd spent the previous nights at a hotel under an alias she hadn't used in fifteen years. Yesterday, she'd provided an affidavit in court, detailing every nightmare Reece had put her through over the last several months. Her misery was all on record, and so was her humiliation. The judge was an older guy, white haired and surly, but with a softness in his faded blue eyes that hardened as he granted the injunction. His voice was hard as he declared that Reece was not permitted to be within 100 metres of her home and was not permitted to contact her for the next six months.

Clyde had gone with her to court, though he'd been forced to wait outside, and he'd taken her to work afterward so she could sort through some things. This morning he'd picked her up again. Clyde had always had her back, something she hadn't doubted since their first assignment together, and that hadn't changed even with all the years that had passed. He'd hugged her when they got to the airport, which was very much not Clyde, but then the hug was barely a hug. Emily had waved and walked with her go bag and rolling suitcase to the plane. She passed through security and without hesitating or twitching, she handed the stewardess a passport with a different name on it. It was far from the first time, and it probably wouldn't be her last time doing so. Emily slid into her seat and tried not to think about Reece.

* * *

><p>Morgan stretched and rested his hands on his bald head as he contemplated his pantry and fridge. He needed to make dinner. He ordered in too much; he had to cook for himself more often. The problem was trying to figure out what to make. He opened his freezer and studied the contents. Seriously freezer-burned fish was perched awkwardly on top a package of frozen green beans, some sort of rice mix was thrown haphazardly beside it, blocking off the last item that he had reach past it to grab. Chicken thighs, wings and legs. He took out the package and rummaged in his pantry, smiling when he found what he needed.<p>

His father's mother had taught him how to make fried chicken, but his mother had adapted it to be more healthy and turned it into flavorful baked chicken. He also had some potatoes that he could mash and green beans would finish off a meal that would make his mama proud. And he'd have extras for the next few days. Of course, that meant that they'd almost certainly be called away on a case. Still, he shrugged and got to work, defrosting the chicken in the microwave and preparing the batter and bread crumbs. He'd finished the chicken and was working on peeling the potatoes when the doorbell rang. Morgan wiped his hands on a towel, and went to answer, expecting to find a couple Jehovah's Witnesses on his doorstep.

His initial surprise when he opened the door quickly gave way to a big smile. "Emily!"

She smiled back. "Sorry for the lack of notice. You up for a house guest for a few days?"

He saw the larger suitcase she had in addition to her go bag and knew that she was in the states for more than a few days, but didn't ask. Not yet anyway. But he did study her more carefully. Though her smile reached her eyes, there was something behind it that he didn't like. It was pain, maybe even fear. It was need. She was running from something. But he didn't interrogate her. Instead he smiled and opened his arms to envelope her. "Are you kidding? I'm thrilled to have you."

Her smiled widened and she stepped into his arms, wrapping her own around him. Something in her stance made him hold her tighter, eliciting a barely audible, though pained moan from her. He quickly stepped back. "What's wrong?"

She shrugged. "It's nothing, just a little banged up from a minor car accident."

"What?" He frowned. "What accident? When did that happen?"

"A couple days ago, but I swear that I'm fine. Injuries were very minor."

Morgan continued to study her and didn't believe a word she said. But he didn't press. Instead, he stepped aside so that she could come inside and took her larger suitcase from her. He tried to grab her go-bag too, but the look on her face made him release the strap. Some things did not change. Emily Prentiss being hellbent on her independence was one of those things. He led her up to the guest room, and told her to come join him in kitchen whenever she finished getting settled. He returned to his cooking, chopping the potatoes and putting them into boil, before grabbing the garlic and onions for the green beans.

With stellar timing, Emily walked into the kitchen as he was slicing the onion, tears rolling down his cheeks from the spicy bite of the vegetable. Emily grinned. "Imagine that, Derek Morgan, the quintessential tough guy crying over onions."

"It is a autonomic reaction, I can't help it," he insisted with a fake pout. Truth was he loved it. He had missed their teasing banter since even before she'd left. It hadn't really been the same since she had died. Maybe even earlier. Maybe since Doyle started stalking her and Emily began to spin-off into her private darkness. A darkness that he would have given anything to have been given the chance to help her out of, but Emily was extremely private.

Emily chuckled. "What are you making? And is there anything I can do to help?"

"Baked chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. And, not really, unless you want to peak in the oven and see if the chicken is ready to be turned."

She nodded and began walking toward the oven. "Do you usually cook for yourself like this?"

"No. I hardly even cook. You know how it is. I've been trying to order out less though, and chicken was about my only option, unless I wanted freezer-burned catfish."

He heard her open the oven. "Yum. Freezer-burn gives it all the flavor, doesn't it?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, just like cardboard. How's the chicken look?"

"It could probably use another minute before it's turned."

Morgan nodded and grabbed a pan, pouring in some olive oil. "So...what brings you to the states?"

"Uh, vacation actually."

He glanced up at her. "You just spontaneously decided to go on vacation?"

"Just needed a break, and I'm the boss, so I can take it whenever I want." She smiled.

He did too, though he knew her words weren't the truth, or at least the whole truth. "Well, either way, it's damn good to see you."

"Yeah, I've missed you guys." She was smiling when she pulled her cell phone out, but it dropped and her face grew white as she read what he assumed was a text.

"Em…everything okay?"

She snapped the phone shut and returned it to her pocket, her smile instantly reappearing. "Yeah, everything's fine."

He didn't believe her for a second.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N (also appears in Fallen): My apologies for the unexpected hiatus, but it couldn't be helped. I fell on some black ice and sprained my wrist about two months ago, which has healed, but then I was out of town for the last couple weekends. The update schedule I noted in the last chapter still stands, I'll be updating this story every other week, and in the weeks in between I'll be updating my other story Fallen, which I've also updated today._ _Thank you all for continuing to follow and read this story!_

_Previously from Naked Soul: _

_"Yeah, I've missed you guys." She was smiling when she pulled her cell phone out, but it dropped and her face grew white as she read what he assumed was a text._

_"Em…everything okay?"_

_She snapped the phone shut and returned it to her pocket, her smile instantly reappearing. "Yeah, everything's fine."_

_He didn't believe her for a second._

Emily waited at the bar with Morgan for the others to arrive. They'd had a good time, enjoying each others company last night, though it was exhausting pretending she wasn't spinning out inside. That text from Reece was only one of many now, each telling her how much he missed her and promising that he'd be in the states soon. How he'd gotten the number so quickly, she couldn't fathom, but she'd called Clyde while Morgan was at work earlier today and told him about it. She'd also forwarded him all the texts. As soon as he reported them, the police would go and pick up Reece before he could make it to the states. She felt better knowing that, and was hoping to enjoy spending some time with the team. She'd also worked off a considerable amount of her anxious energy playing with Clooney, who though he may have been getting up there in years, was still as playful as ever.

Garcia was the first to arrive, though it became quickly obvious that Rossi had arrived at the same time, as the blonde attached herself to his arm, practically bubbling over. Dave already looked wiped out, as Penelope looked at her and squealed, earning the attention of a few nearby tables. Without wasting a minute, Garcia grabbed her up in a bone-crushing hug that Emily returned with almost as much enthusiasm.

"I was so excited when Derek said you were in town, I could hardly wait to get done with work!" The tech looked like she might actually explode.

"Take a breath, Babygirl, we've got all night."

She sat down, and Emily took the opportunity to hug Rossi, who gave her a peck on the cheek, a warm smile and a few whispered words of Italian.

The others, including Will and the new member of the team whom Emily didn't know very well, Alex Blake, arrived in quick succession, everyone cramming around a two square tables that even shoved together were way too small for nine adults. The excited, happy energy made it easy for them to forget though.

"So, what's new in London?" JJ asked once they were all settled with drinks and finger food.

Emily shrugged. "Not much, though I am decidedly sick of all the paperwork. Hotch, how on Earth have you forced yourself to do it for some many years?"

The Unit Chief was sipping Scotch, and after a swallow he set it on the bar. "I was a lawyer before this, I'm used to swimming in paperwork."

Morgan chuckled. "That's why I never practiced. Too much paperwork and too much bullshit." He gave an exaggerated chill."

Garcia blinked. "I always forget you have a JD."

JJ failed to stifle a chuckle. "Yeah, me too."

He waggled his eyebrows. "I'm more than just a pretty face, ladies."

"Yeah, can't forget the ego," Emily teased him, offering a playful nudge.

Derek grinned. "It's not ego if it's all truth, Princess."

Emily chuckled at that, and hearing the laughter of those around her, she felt some of the weight, not really lift, but shift on her shoulders so that it wasn't so hard to carry. She had missed them all, most of all in the last few months. And no matter how hard she had tried to keep Reece's cruel words from sticking, some of them inevitably stuck. Being with the team now proved that those words weren't true; there were other people who cared about her, loved her even. And Clyde, too. If not her him, she'd still be with Reece, being broken down further and further, piece by piece.

As the night wore on, Hotch left to get home to Jack, and Rossi soon after, mumbling something about having to deal with a pain-in-the-ass editor tomorrow morning. Garcia yanked Morgan out to the dance floor, and Will pulled JJ up to join them, though the blonde didn't resist him. Reid headed to the bar to refresh drinks, and Emily pulled her attention away from Garcia and Morgan who were bumping around and laughing, to Alex.

"So, what's it like being the boss?" The other woman asked.

"Honestly?" Alex nodded. "I miss being in the field a lot, all I do is shuffle papers, answer phones and coddle pissed off politicians. The latter I could really do without, but then there is something really satisfying about being the one to make all the decisions."

Alex smiled. "Fair enough."

"What about you, how have you found working in the BAU?"

The other woman seemed to think a moment. "I always heard about how close the BAU teams were, and part of me thought it was a little weird, but after being part of it, I get it. The work is very heavy, you need something to balance that out."

Emily nodded. "They are the best part of the job."

"Yet, you left."

She studied her now empty glass. "How much have they told you about that?"

"Uh, I was told that you left to pursue another career opportunity, but…I'm pretty sure the entire Bureau knows that you pulled a Lazarus."

"And what's the prevailing theory on the rumor mill about that?"

"Oh, I don't pay any attention to rumors, though I did hear one that suggested you were a vampire. I figured that one just_ had _to be true."

Emily smiled, deciding that she already liked the other woman. "The truth it that it's all classified and the team couldn't tell you even if they wanted it, and I can't either. What I can say is that it's hard to go back to your old life after you've been dead for seven months. Everything has changed around you, and you don't really fit with it anymore."

"I don't know, you seemed to fit just fine tonight."

"I guess I found a new way to fit," she said. It was more complicated than that, it was all far more complicated than either of them said, but it was too heavy a topic for tonight. And frankly, Emily tried to avoid thinking about her "death" as much as possible.

Alex smiled then, a knowing, almost teasing grin. "I'd say you fit really well with Morgan."

"What?"

"I haven't known him as long as you have, but I've worked with him long enough to know that there was something different about him tonight. You being here brought something out in him, almost like a smile, but completely intangible."

Emily shrugged, her body instantly tense. "He's just happy to see me. We don't get to see each other much anymore."

Alex didn't have an opportunity to respond, because Emily's cell phone went off. She saw it was Clyde and excused herself, walking outside the bar where it was quieter. "Did the cops pick him up?" she asked.

"Afraid not, Darling. He was already on a plane." His words made her breath freeze in her throat.

She forced it down and fisted one hand. "Is he here yet?"

"It looks that way. Who are you staying with?"

"Uh, Morgan."

"Good, keep it that way. The restraining order is only good in England, but I'm going to fax a copy to a bloke in MPD so they have it on file. Is the bastard still texting you?"

"There was a little lull, I guess when he was on the plane, but yeah."

"Alright, he tries anything more than that and you get yourself to a courthouse, alright? With the London injunction and him flying across the country after you, it shouldn't be hard to get a D.C. judge to sign off on another injunction." His voice was full of logic and orders, but she could hear the worry underneath it. They both knew that the respective governments wouldn't negotiate an extradition for just violating an injunction. Maneuvering of that magnitude required something much bigger, like murder.

Emily ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "He's never going to let me go, Clyde."

* * *

><p>The next morning she was on the phone with Jerome Wallace, the man filling in while she was on her unexpected vacation. Her laptop was open on her lap and Clooney was sprawled next to her on the sofa, his head resting against her thigh. Morgan was at work. She was going through her email while they talked, Jerome filling her in on things at the office and her trying to dodge all his questions about where she was and when she was coming back. It seemed that Jerome didn't like paperwork anymore than she did.<p>

"You were supposed to meet with that gentleman from the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure tomorrow afternoon."

"Your accent is terrible."

He didn't miss a beat. "I studied German."

She smirked. "Uh, see how he feels about a video conference."

"And if he's inflexible about the time?"

The meeting was at 10:30 a.m., London time. "Then I guess I'll get to bed early tonight."

"You're sure you don't want me to meet with him for you?"

"No, I need to be present for this one." The DSGE Deputy Director wanted to discuss the prospect of another JTF-12 task force. Just the thought made her slightly nauseated, but she needed to be involved in that decision. She needed to be there to tell him that of the five members assigned to the first JTF-12 team, only two were still alive. Tsia wasn't disposable. Sean wasn't disposable, and his wife and little girl sure as hell weren't disposable. She brightened when she noted Jerome eying her. "But you're welcome to take the meeting with the MI5 agents."

He raised an eyebrow, distrusting. "Why don't you want to take that one?"

"I didn't say I didn't want to take it, but you can handle that one as easily as I could. They have a couple of trafficked women willing to talk, and want our assistance tracing their paths and traffickers."

"Eastern European?"

Emily didn't even have to look at her notes. Eastern Europe provided a large portion of women trafficked in the world today. "Yep."

"We'll never stop it."

"That doesn't mean that we shouldn't try." But he was right. As long as there was demand, there would always be people trafficked into slavery, whether that was women forced to be prostitutes in foreign countries or children sold into heinous conditions and eighty-hour work weeks picking coco beans.

"Alright, I'll take that one. Any others?"

"I think that was all I had scheduled for this week, except for the internal meetings, which I'm afraid are going to have to be all you." The look of horror that swept over his face at the thought nearly made her burst out laughing.

"I'd forgotten about them. Happily."

"They aren't that bad," she assured, opening up her personal email.

"The hell they're not, you always look like you've just taken a few turns through an industrial dryer when you come out of them." His bluntness didn't bother Emily in the least, and she had no doubt that his description of her was accurate.

"They're a necessary evil." She clicked through the emails, sending several to the junk bin before one made her stop. Her eyes landed on it and then she couldn't look away. The fear it invoked kept her glued to it.

"Emily?"

She nearly jumped. "Uh, I have to go, Jerome. Let me know what happens with the guy from DSGE." She hung up without waiting for him to respond.

Emily went back to staring at the email. It was a photo of herself. She was wearing a lower cut dress and smiling shyly at the camera. Her clover scar was just barely visible. Even after the laser scar removal, a faint pink shadow remained. Underneath the photo was a small line of text.

It read, "I always loved this photo of you. I miss you."


End file.
